


Litmus Paper

by datafailure



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: And enjoys it, Birthday, Enabran Tain's A+ Parenting, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Gul Dukat is a terrible father, M/M, No beta we die like Jem'Hadar, Pining Elim Garak, Surprise Party, Tora Ziyal Lives, Worf Beats The Shit Out Of Gul Dukat, and we are IGNORING the gross ziyal/garak in canon, idk what else to tag this, set sometime in season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:42:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29437725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/datafailure/pseuds/datafailure
Summary: Julian keeps being late for his meetings with Garak. His excuses aren't up to scratch.(Sappy Garak POV because I am depressed)
Relationships: Benjamin Sisko/Kasidy Yates, Jadzia Dax/Worf, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 65





	Litmus Paper

-

Garak sat in his quarters, waiting. A cup of red leaf tea - the genuine article, not replicated - rested in a small saucer on the table. Opposite him, a large mug of Tarkalean, extra-sweet, stood untouched. The doctor was late again.

A chime at the door- “Come in!” - and his lunch partner staggered into the room, catching his breath.

“Doctor! I’m gratified that you could make it. Do sit down.”

“Hello, Garak. I’m sorry I was late, I’ve been busy… at work. There’s a new research project that seems to be taking all my time recently.” He sat down, grabbing the mug with both hands and gulping down some tea, before screeching in pain. “Fuck, why is it so hot?” His tongue hung out of his mouth like an overheated desert hound.

“I do apologise. I’ve become rather accustomed to your lateness recently and so I started replicating your Tarkalean tea a few degrees hotter, so that it would be the right temperature when you arrived. You were earlier than I expected today.” Garak got up to replicate a glass of cold water. “Do you need a dermal regenerator?”

“No, it’s not that bad. Thank you, though.” Taking a long drink of the water, he sighed in relief. “I really am sorry for my tardiness. There’s just so much to be done. To be honest, I’d much rather be here with you than running those tests anyway.” His face flushed, probably a delayed response to the hot tea, and he looked away.

“Far be it from me to withhold you from your work, doctor. Who knows what scientific breakthroughs you could discover? Much more important than spending time with an old tailor, I’m sure.” Nevertheless, he was pleased to hear such fond words coming from the doctor’s mouth.

_ You’ve grown sentimental in your old age, Elim. _

Be quiet. You’re dead.

_ And yet you still hear me. _

“I wouldn’t ditch you for any discovery - voluntarily, at least. Life on this station would be dull without your company.” Julian smiled that special smile, the one reserved only for him. When Garak was on his deathbed, asking for forgiveness, during his panic attacks on that dreadful asteroid, when Julian touched his arm gently over the Replimat table before they said goodbye and went their separate ways - that smile was  _ his.  _ He often dreamed of it, of hushed conversation and crumpled sheets and those deceptively delicate hands, still and warm. He wondered how those hands would feel stroking his hair, holding his face gently, brushing against his as they strolled down the Promenade - but that was only wishful thinking. There was no way that such a creature as Doctor Bashir would be interested in a fat old Cardassian with more mortal enemies than he could count.

“So,” he started, sinking easily into the cushioned seat (he’d replaced the standard chairs with more comfortable ones years ago), “what sort of research are you doing that’s taking up so much of your free time?” As Julian spoke animatedly about the alien disease he had been trying to counteract, Garak watched his face carefully. Every expression, every starry-eyed second, was catalogued and put away for later, so he could recall the man before him, the time they spent together, and feel less lonely for a while. Not that it ever worked - as soon as the doctor left, he would feel that gut-wrenching lonely pain again. Nothing helped. He smiled and nodded and made small noises of affirmation, curiosity, just so that he could keep looking.

_ Look all you want, but you’ll never be able to touch him. _

-

“Late again, doctor! Honestly, I think you’ve been spending too much time on this project. You must take better care of yourself.”

Julian had been 12 minutes late to their lunch appointment, leaving Garak to sit alone, scrutinised by the Bajoran residents around him. When he was with the doctor, he didn’t notice it as much, being too caught up in their heated debate, but alone, he felt the cold fire of their hatred burning into the back of his head. Living on this station forced him to come face to face with the reality of what his race had done, every day. Regret was pointless - the past could never be changed - but he couldn’t help but feel guilt on behalf of the military boneheads that tried for years to break the Bajoran people. Skrain would never show remorse for any of his deeds, and it made him sick to believe that his people genuinely believed they were superior to other races. Having lived among them for so long, learning about their culture and customs, he recognised truly the strength of Bajor and its people - to live and thrive after 50 years of tortuous occupation. Maybe the wormhole aliens truly were taking care of Bajor.

“God, Garak, I’m sorry. This keeps happening - I was so busy - time just flew past. Have you eaten already?” He rested his hand on Garak’s upper arm, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Ah - no, I haven’t. I’m not so rude as to start without you.” He smiled his customer-service smile, warm and placid, hoping it was convincing enough. Their previous meeting in Garak’s quarters - Julian had noticed that he wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying, had ignored his lies and laid his hand over Garak’s, asking in that concerned tone of his whether he was okay, had he been sleeping enough, was his time in the internment camp affecting him more than he’d let on. Like he hadn’t been there, in and out of solitary, for a month. Like he hadn’t cared for his dying father, worked tirelessly to help him send a message out, been beaten and abused by Jem’Hadar guards. The concern he had shown these last weeks for Garak’s wellbeing had been almost irritating -  _ he should be taking care of himself, not worrying over me. _

“Alright then, I’ll order for both of us. What’ll it be?” As soon as his hand left his arm, Garak felt the chill of the station settle in once again. Pathetic.

“Zabu stew and rokassa juice, please.”

“Alright, though I can’t for the life of me understand what you see in that awful fish juice.” He walked towards the replicator and ordered, carrying two trays back with him. Garak smiled genially at him, before noticing something.

“Ah, Doctor? Why do you have…” he gestured to his eyebrow - “...that on your face?”

Julian reached up to his forehead and picked off a scrap of grey tissue. He panicked for a moment, trying to come up with a passable excuse.

“It’s, uh… part of my research?”

“Your antibody research involves attaching tissue to your face?”

“That - this is something used in old Earth chemistry. Before digital chemical analysers were invented, scientists used something called Litmus paper to find the pH of chemicals. I thought it… prudent… to run my tests using several methods.” He exhaled audibly, ripping the shred of paper into smaller pieces.

“I see.” In no way did Garak believe him, but Julian obviously wasn’t going to tell him what it really was. ”So, what did you think of  _ Remembering The Sword? _ ” He tucked into his stew and listened as his doctor launched into a scathing review of the novel.

-

Lateness Garak could deal with. Not showing up at all, with no notice, no apology? Not so much. He sat alone in his quarters, bitter and sad. In the first few months of their friendship, Julian had made a point of finding out when his birthday was. Cardassians didn’t really celebrate birthdays every year - the 9th and the 15th were significant, but past that there wasn’t much. He had gotten used to the annual celebration though - drinks and a meal, a small gift - last year, drunk, Julian had hugged him, and he had felt the heat radiate through his entire body, and the station didn’t seem so cold for a while. Maybe he had forgotten.

Just as he was about to take his shoes off and go back to bed, the door chimed.

“Come in.”

The door slid open, and there stood Julian, wearing the shirt that Garak had given him for  _ his  _ birthday two years ago. It fit looser than before, draped across his shoulders, but then the war had taken its toll on everyone. He held a small plant in a pot, and an envelope. 

“Happy birthday, Garak. I’m sorry I’m late.”

“Doctor, how kind of you! I thought you weren’t coming for a while.” He took the plant from Julian’s hands - an Earth orchid, delicately pink with crimson-purple veined petals, and marveled at its beauty.

“I asked Keiko to find me one - after I told her who it was for, of course she found one. She’s fond of you, you know.” He placed the card on the table, taking Garak’s arm as he tended to do when he wanted to take him somewhere. “Are you ready? I’ve got a surprise for you.” That special smile, eyes excited, apprehensive.

“My dear, you know how I hate surprises,” he said, but he set the flower down on the table next to the card and allowed himself to be taken, guided out of his quarters into the chilling station air.

“You’ll like this one, I promise.” The Promenade was unusually quiet for a weekday evening, but they continued their conversation as Julian led him to the bar. Quark whispered something to him, and they walked up the stairs to the holosuites. The door opened, and Garak was almost instantly flooded with warmth. The deep orange of Cardassia’s sun, the radiant heat from the sandy earth, and the smiling faces of the colleagues and friends he had somehow managed to procure in his years on the station. 

“Surprise!” they cheered. Sisko, Dax and Worf were there, already holding drinks, as well as Keiko and Ziyal. Garak looked at Julian, slightly overwhelmed, and was met with a gleeful smile. The grip on his arm tightened slightly, before letting him go, and they walked into the holosuite as the door swished shut behind them.

“Captain, Lieutenants Dax and Worf, what a surprise to see you here!” And it was - Garak was under the distinct impression that Worf despised him, after the incident on the Changelings’ home planet. Dax probably dragged her husband here against his will, which would explain his annoyed disposition. She stepped forward and slapped his back amicably, a big smile on her face.

“You think I’d miss a birthday party? Anyway, I’ve been helping Julian plan this for weeks. He hasn’t shut up about it,” she laughed, and it clicked in Garak’s mind - the lateness, the terrible excuses, everything. He turned to the doctor, who looked embarrassed.

“You did this for me? Why, doctor, it’s far too much!” He gestured around - the holosuite program, the food, the drink, the-  _ what was that?  _ A paper model of Dukat hung from a post wedged into the ground. It was quite good, actually - whoever made it had got his self-satisfied smirk just right.

Julian followed his eyes and laughed. “Oh, this? It’s an Earth custom called a pi ñata. You fill it with stuff - usually sweets - and then you take a stick and you hit it blindfolded until it breaks, and they all fall out.”

“I see. Is there any reason why it looks like Gul Dukat?”

“That was Worf’s idea, actually.”

“Really!” Garak stared incredulously at the Klingon officer, who had adopted a pleased-looking snarl.

“For catharsis.”

“Of course. Well, I must say, it is quite accurate.” Turning to Julian, he grinned. "Litmus paper indeed. Did you make that up?"

“No, it is a real thing, but I was lying to you - I was busy doing this. I made it myself,” Julian beamed. “I thought it would be funny - we had to avoid running it past the Captain, though. Not very professional.”

“I think I’ll let it slide this time, Doctor,” Sisko said, a twinkle in his eye. “Don’t let me hear about you making one of me, though, or Prophets help me…”

“Of course not, sir. I wouldn’t even dream of it.” They all laughed, and Garak turned to greet Ziyal with a press of his palm.

“Hello, my dear. I do hope you’re not too offended by this effigy,” he said.

She laughed. “Oh no, trust me, I’ll be wanting to throw the first punch.” Garak smiled sadly - family was indeed everything to Cardassians, but that man was nothing of a father and deserved no respect. Through their time together, Ziyal had come to seek Garak’s advice more than once, and she was the closest thing to a daughter that he would ever have. Keiko greeted him with a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Happy birthday, Garak! I’ve got to get back to the kids, but I hope you have a wonderful time.”

“Of course, Mrs O’Brien. And thank you for that beautiful orchid - quite stunning. I’m afraid I will have to trouble you to ask for advice on keeping it healthy, as the climes on Earth are quite different.”

“Sure, I’ll drop a PADD by in the morning. Goodbye now, and have a lovely evening!” She left the holosuite after saying goodbye to the rest of the guests. Keiko truly was a wonderful woman - their shared interest in botany had led to some fascinating conversations about her research trips to Bajor. From the start, she had made it clear that she did not share her husband’s xenophobic tendencies, and that “any friend of Julian’s is a friend of mine”. She was driven, kind, and a brilliant mother to her children. Garak admired her.

“Right, who wants to start?” Julian brought him back to the present, brandishing a large stick and a blindfold.

“I do!” Ziyal jumped excitedly, giggling as Julian tied the blindfold and spun her around three times. He handed her the stick, which she swung wildly through the air until she hit the effigy of her father right in the crotch. Sisko winced and drew a breath in through his teeth, while Dax cackled and muttered “That’s gotta hurt.” Garak was quite happy to stand back and watch - since the war started, Ziyal had been through far too much for a girl of her age. It was good to see her enjoying herself for once. A crack resounded, and Ziyal lifted the blindfold to see that she had hacked Dukat’s leg off. Small sweets fell through the hole and hit the ground, and the audience cheered. Worf took the stick off of Ziyal and grunted as he gave the piñata a thorough Klingon battering until it was lying on the ground, Dukat’s face caved in and his body disfigured. Looking pleased with himself, he dropped the stick and joined Ziyal in merrily jumping on the paper corpse. Dax whispered, “He’s been looking forward to this since he had the idea to make it,” and everyone laughed. Julian pulled Garak to the side.

“Having a good time?”

“All this is wonderful, my dear, thank you. What I don’t understand is why you would go to all this effort for me.” Julian looked down at his feet, clenching a fist into his tunic. He took a controlled breath in, out, then looked back up, grabbed Garak’s face, and kissed him.

It was quick, chaste, only a peck, really, but Garak staggered backwards like he’d been shot. His lips tingled, the aftermath of an electric shock, and he had to remember how to breathe.

“I know it’s stupid, all of it, and I’m sorry I’ve been spending less time with you recently, but what with the war and the prison and my parents and everything I’ve been so- so overwhelmed, and you… you’re my only anchor. You, this station, my friends here, that’s all I have. And I could lose it at any time - the station could be taken over again, my friends could die fighting the Dominion - I don’t want to lose you too. Not without you knowing how much you mean to me.” Dax and Sisko had grown quiet, unsure of what would happen, but Ziyal and Worf were still beating Dukat. Julian’s face dropped when Garak didn’t respond, and he opened his mouth to apologise, when Garak took his hand gently.

“How long?” Julian looked up at him, new hope sparking in his eyes.

“I don’t know, really. Probably since the wire - when I really thought you were going to die, it made me realise - I don’t care what you’ve done, what’s happened before, I just don’t ever want to lose you.”

“My dear, why didn’t you say anything?” He stepped close to Julian, the rest of the world melting away.

“I don’t know, I was- I was scared, I didn’t-” but he shut his mouth as Garak stepped in to kiss him again. Nothing else mattered - the war, his exile, the cold of the station - nothing but this. The kiss ended and oh, Guls, Julian was looking at him like he looked at the wormhole as it opened - pure adoration.

“Hey! Get a room!” Ziyal yelled, evidently finished defacing her father. Worf gave his head one more stomp, just to be sure, then straightened out, rejoining his wife.

“Yes, I think it’s time I returned, too. Jake and Nog are cooking for me and Kasidy tonight - they said it’s a joint effort,” Sisko said.

“Better hope there’s no tube grubs in it,” Dax quipped, grinning.

“Actually, they’re pretty tasty. You ought to try them sometime.”

“No thank you. I’ve already got a worm inside me.”

One by one, the others left, wishing Garak a happy birthday, and he thanked them all politely. It was strange, having all these people here purely for his benefit - he was not used to having friends. Standing in the Cardassian sun, he silently thanked the forces that be for blessing him with this life, and with the lanky human that he was currently holding in his arms.

“You know, dear Julian,” he murmured as they departed, “I think you’ve managed to make this the best birthday of my life.”

-

**Author's Note:**

> This whole story came from the idea of the Dukat piñata. Also it's Andy Robinson's birthday, and Valentine's Day, so I wanted to avoid confronting my existential loneliness by writing some sappy shit.
> 
> 1 comment = 1 Worf Mega Punch to Dukat's crotch <3


End file.
